Between Brothers: Moment of Truth
by Rainey
Summary: Based on the final scenes of "Double Play." A.J. and Rick are the victims of a bizarre look-alike scheme meant to frame them


Title: Between Brothers: Moment of Truth  
Author:Rainey  
E-Mail:crazylikecat@aol.com  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Based on the final scenes of "Double Play." A.J. and Rick are the victims of a bizarre look-alike scheme meant to frame them.   
  
Author's Note: This was inspired by the final scenes of "Double Play," and is just my interpretation of what might have happened after Rick was shot. Of course, I elaborate. And if you're like me, you may want to have some Kleenex handy.  
  
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Between Brothers: Moment of Truth  
by Rainey  
  
There comes a day in everyone's life when fate throws us a curve, and in the briefest of moments, brings our world crashing down around us. Suddenly we see, with amazing clarity, the one thing that truly matters most. And it is only when we are faced with losing it forever do we realize just how precious it is. How precious it always was. And how sorry we are for having taken it for granted.  
  
I knew that day would come for me, as well. And it did--the moment the bullet hit my brother in the chest...  
  
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Escuinapa, Mexico  
  
"A.J., we have to get outta here!" Rick insisted, suddenly agitated. "Please...I can't do this!" His face had gone as white as chalk, and he was walking around in circles, his gun gripped tight.  
  
"I've been having these...dreams," he mumbled. "Somethin' terrible is gonna happen here, A.J., I know it."  
  
"Rick, come on, it's gonna be all right." I patted his arm, trying to calm him. I'd never seen him this rattled before, but something about this place clearly had him frightened and on edge.  
  
I had to admit Sanchez's hideaway was enough to give even a seasoned private eye a case of the jitters. We were standing in a high-ceiling, stone-walled chamber, surrounded by ornate, gilt-framed floor to ceiling mirrors, and for a moment I felt like I was in one of those creepy funhouses where the floor starts shifting under your feet.  
  
Overall, it was cold and not the least bit inviting. Not that we were invited guests, by any means. We were here out of desperation, at the risk of our lives, in a last-ditch attempt to clear our names and prove our innocence. All the evidence pointed to Sanchez being the one who'd concocted this bizarre look-alike scheme meant to be the perfect frame. The man's thirst for revenge must have been monumental, I thought, for him to have gone to such extremes to achieve it. And now, he was holed up somewhere within the walls of this mighty fortress, and it was up to us to find him.   
  
I glanced around the room warily, wondering what was going to happen next. I didn't like surprises, and I had the uneasy feeling there were a lot of nasty ones just waiting to jump out at us.  
  
Rick had gone back over to the door, seemingly determined to leave. He jiggled the doorknob frantically, but it was to no avail.  
  
"A.J.,it's locked," he said, a hint of fear in his voice. "We're trapped." He turned from the door and walked slowly over to me. He looked pale and shaken, and I was starting to worry about him. This was simply not like my brother at all. Something was terribly wrong, but there was no time for that now. The stage was set. There was no turning back.  
  
A moment later, we heard a noise coming from somewhere up the winding staircase. Rick and I crept cautiously over to investigate and got the shock of our lives. Poised on the stone steps were two exact replicas of us, mirror images from their clothes on down to the weapons they were holding. The likeness was uncanny, I thought, as I stared up at the stranger who had my hair, my face, my eyes. I glanced quickly over at Rick, and saw he was equally stunned. The irony of it all was utterly perfect. What better way for Sanchez to exact his revenge than by having us killed by our own doubles? Or, better yet, trip us up enough so that Rick and I accidentally killed each other. The thought of that sent a chill down my spine, and if I allowed myself to even think it, there'd be no chance of us getting out of here alive.  
  
Suddenly, a shot rang out. We took cover, the bullet narrowly missing us as it slammed into one of the stone walls.   
  
A few moments of eerie silence passed.  
  
Cautiously, we crept out from behind the wall and made our way over to the staircase. Our "doubles" had disappeared. We climbed the stairs slowly, splitting up when we got to the landing. They were playing cat and mouse with us, intent on leading us in a chase up and down the maze-like web of narrow-arched, stone-walled corridors, and we could do nothing but play along.  
  
Leaving my brother behind, I set off down the corridor to the right, tensed and ready to do battle in this strange, eerie place resemblant of a dark, medieval castle. Not knowing what I was about to encounter was only part of my worry; it was losing sight of Rick that really had my mind racing with fear. I hated leaving him on his own after seeing how distressed he was. Still, our chances were better this way.  
  
My heart was pounding as I made my way down one dimly-lit corridor to the next, expecting, at any moment, for my twin to come jumping out at me. There were several mirrors, here and there, making it all the more nerve-wracking, and I jumped at the site of my own reflection more than once.  
  
Soon, I came to another staircase. I proceeded down carefully, unaware of the staircase on the opposite side, or the man who was creeping down it, mirroring my every move. But when I got to the bottom, I turned around, and came face to face with the man who could've been me.  
  
We lunged at each other, struggling and exchanging blows. He was a tough opponent, but I fought harder and finally gained the upper hand. I knew this was a fight to the finish, and one I couldn't afford to lose. And after landing a few good, solid blows, my double collapsed to the floor.  
  
That's one down, for now, at least, I thought, as I stood gasping for breath. Where was Rick? I wondered, my apprehension building. For a moment I thought I heard him calling out to me, but I couldn't be sure. It could've been a trap. I had to find him, and fast, before the unthinkable happened. And to linger here any longer would be deadly.   
  
I took a deep breath and pushed on. I sprinted back up the stairs and through the corridors once more, in search of my brother. But I felt like I was going around in circles, and for a few terrifying minutes, I lost all sense of direction. I stood for a moment, trying to get my bearings, when I heard a shot. I spun around, and raced toward the sound of it, my heart thudding in my chest. As I hit the top of the staircase, I heard another shot, this one coming directly from the landing below.   
  
My gun gripped tight, I quickly descended the stairs in time to see my "double" standing over my brother, his gun aimed and ready to fire. Rick was on the floor, his back propped up against the wall, his hand clutched to his chest. He was hurt and utterly defenseless, and about to be killed by a man who looked just like me. I had not a second to waste, nor any second thoughts as I pulled the trigger and shot the man in the back. My "double" fell facedown on the floor, alongside his phony partner. Rick had managed to get in one good shot, at least, I thought.   
  
Shoving my gun into my holster, I ran over to my brother and knelt down beside him. He was dazed and sweating, his breath coming in harsh gasps, his shirtfront soaked with blood. Oh, God, he'd been shot in the chest.  
  
"Rick?" I called to him, cradling his head in my hand. "Rick, just hang on, okay," I said. "You're gonna be all right."  
  
Rick blinked, and slowly met my gaze.  
"A.J?" He gasped. "He...shot me.   
  
"I know, Rick. Just take it easy."   
  
Gently, I pulled away his jacket and took a look at the upper right side of his chest. It wasn't good. Blood was pouring from the wound, and I felt a knot of fear tightening around my throat. But for my brother's sake, I had to remain calm. Tearing off my jacket, I balled it up and pressed it against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.   
  
"A.J."? Rick mumbled weakly. "Is that...you?"  
  
"Yeah, it's me, Rick, I'm right here," I reassured him, my hands shaking as I held my jacket to his chest. Damn it, he needed to be in a hospital, and I had to figure out a way to get us out of here before that madman Sanchez called out an army of doubles to finish us off.  
  
"Hey, Rick," I said gently, sliding an arm around his shoulder to try and make him more comfortable. "What happened? Why didn't you shoot him?"   
  
"Couldn't shoot...A.J.," he coughed. "I thought it was...you."  
  
"Oh, God, Rick." I sucked in a breath. Tears springing to my eyes, I rested my head against his for a moment, trying to get a grip on myself.  
  
"A.J," he said in a raspy whisper, "I'm glad...you're...okay.  
  
"Yeah, so am I--look, don't try to talk anymore." I said, my voice shaking. "Save your strength. I just wanna take another look at you, all right?  
  
"Okay...," Rick said, then suddenly grimaced. "Oh...hurts...A.J."  
  
"I know, Rick," I said, my heart constricting as I pulled the blood-soaked garment away for a moment to check on the wound. It was still bleeding. Hastily, I folded my jacket over a few times, then balled it up again and pressed it back onto his chest. God, if I didn't get him out of here soon, my brother was going to bleed to death.  
  
Just then, I heard a commotion, and the sounds of footfalls and shouts coming from the main entryway downstairs. I'd know that voice anywhere. It was Town, and it sounded as if he'd brought the entire San Diego Police Department with him.   
  
"Rick, Town's here!" I cried, relief surging through me.   
  
"Town?" Rick looked confused. "Uh-oh," he chuckled in a high-pitched voice. "Looks like we're...really...in trouble, huh...kid?"   
  
"Look, you just stay put, while I go get help, okay?" I eased my arm from around his shoulder. Then I took his hand and pressed it against the jacket. "I need you to keep the pressure on this, just for a few minutes, until I come back. You think you can do that?"  
  
"I...think I can," he sighed.   
  
"Good."   
  
Sliding my hand out from under the jacket,I knelt beside him.  
"Look, I'll be right back." I patted his shoulder. "Rick, don't you go anywhere, you hear me?"   
  
"Don't worry...A.J," he said, his voice thick with pain, "I ain't...goin' nowhere."  
  
Jumping to my feet, I ran downstairs, shouting to Town that Rick had been shot and we needed help.   
  
"You got it, A.J.!" The lieutenant's initial anger quickly turned to concern, and he started barking out orders to his men. "Get an ambulance out here--now!"  
  
"I gotta get back to Rick," I mumbled, then turned and raced back up the stairs.  
  
"Hang on, Rick," I called out as I approached. "Help is on the way--"  
  
But the words froze on my lips.  
  
Rick's eyes were closed, and his face was an ashy grey.  
  
"Rick!?" I cried, quickly kneeling down beside him. "Rick, can you hear me? Oh, God, please, let him be alive," I prayed, my fingers fumbling to find the pulse in his neck.  
  
It was thready, but it was there. My brother was alive.   
  
"Oh, Rick." I sighed, and sat down next to him. And suddenly, I didn't have strength to contain my emotions any longer. There was so much more we had to do together, so many things left unsaid. What if I never got the chance to say them? The truth was, I needed him just as much now as I did when I was a little kid always trailing after him. I couldn't bear to lose him.  
  
With tears streaming down my face, I sat holding my big brother in my arms. "Please...don't leave me, Rick," I sobbed as his blood slowly trickled through my fingers. "Don't leave me."  
  
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After having received emergency treatment at the nearest medical facility, Rick was stable enough to be transported back across the border to County General in San Diego. He'd lost a lot of blood, and it was touch and go for a while, but he'd come through the surgery well, and was expected to make a full recovery. And for once, I was thankful for him being as stubborn as he was.   
  
Now, as I sat at his bedside waiting for him to awaken, I could, at last, breathe a bit easier. But those agonizing hours I'd spent pacing the waiting room felt like the longest of my life, as a myriad of memories and emotions filled my mind.  
  
It seemed I could hardly remember a time when my big brother wasn't there, or when I wasn't looking for him. He was the one I would run to when I had a bad dream, or skinned my knee; the one I had come crying to the first time I had my nose bloodied in a schoolyard fight. I loved my mother and father, but it was Rick I wanted, Rick who'd wipe my tears away, and clean me up, and make me feel safe again. It was Rick who'd tousle my hair and tell me a silly joke, and run off to sneak us a couple of cookies right from under mom's nose. I'd throw my arms around him and tell him he was my best friend in the whole world. He'd laugh, and grab me in a bear hug and say I was "all right for a kid brother."  
  
One night, the police came with terrible news. Our father had been killed in a car accident. I was too young to comprehend most of it; all I knew was that my daddy was gone, and he wasn't coming back. What if mom died, too? I was so afraid, and started clinging to my brother even more. And although he was older, Rick was still only a child himself, struggling in a child's way to cope with his own feelings of grief and loss and a tangle of emotions that were bigger than the both of us.   
  
It was too tender an age for any child to try and be both a father as well as a brother, and he was hurt and confused and angry. He was being forced to grow up too fast, and there were many days when he was sullen and withdrawn. There were times he'd push me away and tell me to go take a hike, that I was a baby and he didn't want me following him around, especially when he was with his friends. I'd cry and run to mom for comfort, but sooner or later, Rick would come back, and once again be the big brother I adored--playful, loving, and always watching out for me.   
  
All those days when I missed my dad so much it hurt like nothing ever could, it was my big brother who held me as I cried. Sometimes he'd cry, too, when the burden of bearing the pain for the both of us became too overwhelming. But after a while, he'd tell me everything would be all right, and that no matter what happened, we'd always be together, cross his heart and hope to die.   
  
And for the most part, we were. Rick became my surrogate father. He taugh me how to play baseball, how to ride a bicycle. He taught me how to swim and how to fish. He taught me how to fight, and how to drive a car. And later on, he taught me about girls, and a few other things mom wouldn't be too happy about.  
  
But Rick had a rebellious nature, and an irrepressible spirit that couldn't be tamed. Barely out of his teens, he was wild and restless, and longing to break free. And one day, he told mom and me that he was leaving. He didn't know where he was going or when he'd be back; he only knew that the road was calling him, and he had to go. I tried to understand, but I couldn't. And, soon, the big brother I loved was gone, and I was left alone to console our broken-hearted mother.  
  
Rick's leaving devastated me. It was like losing my father all over again. How could he do this to us? How could he leave me? There were many nights I cried myself to sleep, loving him and hating him and missing him terribly, all at the same time.   
  
It wasn't easy for mom or me to accept Rick's vagabond ways. There were times he'd be gone for months without a word, and then he'd suddenly come home. But it was never for long. I tried to fill the void by surrounding myself with friends, but none of my surfing buddies could ever take his place. I started dating a girl I met in school, and I wished more than ever that I had my big brother to confide in.  
  
Yet, through it all, the bond between us remained. We had a connection to each other that seemed to transcend both time and place, an inexplicable tie that nothing could sever. But the worst trial of all was yet to come, and both mom and I cried out hearts out the day Rick told us he'd joined the marines and would be going to Viet Nam. I had nothing to cling to but the strength of our bond and the belief in a promise we'd made to each other when we were kids. And that was all that got me through those worry-filled years.  
  
But that was all just a distant memory, the sharp edges of pain having been dulled by time. And for several years now, Rick and I had been working together, side by side, every day, in a profession that often put our lives on the line. Whether it was chasing down street scum or spending countless hours together on tedious surveillances, both of us were keenly aware of the risks and of how swiftly a "routine" situation could turn deadly.  
  
Yet, it seemed all I did was criticize him, and pick and complain about everything from his grungy clothes to his smelly cigars to his stubborn tendency to fall for the wrong women. It seemed I was always on his back about something, always ready to lecture him for being irresponsible and reckless.  
  
But I couldn't seem to remember the last time I told my brother that he was one hell of a detective, and the only person I'd ever trust to cover my back; or that he was gutsy and streetwise, and his instincts were most times right on the money.  
  
And to my regret, I couldn't seem to remember the last time I told my brother how much he meant to me, or how much I loved him.  
  
Rick and I had our differences, it was true. I was jackets and dress shirts and he was army/navy surplus and cowboy boots. I'd probably always be cautious and conservative, and he'd probably always be reckless and a bit irresponsible. And he'd probably never get his damn boat out of my yard. But none of that mattered. The only thing that did was that my brother was alive. There was nothing more I could ask for.  
  
Suddenly, I felt so tired, the hours of constant worry and fear at last catching up to me. But I couldn't rest until Rick opened his eyes and I saw for myself that he was going to be all right. Although I only meant to close my eyes for a few minutes, I fell fast asleep. But my mind refused to rest, and in an instant I was back in that maze of narrow-arched, stone-walled corridors.  
  
This time, I was trapped. No matter where I turned, there was no way out. The corridors seemed to have stretched to the length of football fields. How would I ever find Rick? How would we ever get out of here?  
  
From somewhere, I heard a voice.  
It was Rick, calling out to me.  
  
"A.J.!...A.J.!"  
It was muted, and so distant, almost like an afterthought.  
  
"Rick!?" I cried, trying desperately to run toward his voice. But the more I ran, the farther away I got.   
  
"Rick!? Where are you? I can't find you....Riiiiick!!"   
My voice echoed off the stone walls as I stood screaming my brother's name.  
  
"A.J....A.J."  
  
The voice was gruff this time, barely a whisper. But it was enough to send my nightmare packing, and I awoke with a start to see my brother regarding me through heavy-lidded eyes. He really had been calling me. I wasn't just a dream.   
  
"Hey...you're awake!" I rose from the chair and went over to his bed. His face was pale, and he looked so tired, I didn't want to overtax him.  
  
"How're you feeling?" I asked softly, giving his left hand a light squeeze.  
  
"Oh...like I got shot...in the chest," he said, his voice raspy and weak. "A.J., you look like hell."  
  
"Same to you." I gave him a weary half-smile, and rubbed a hand across my face. "I guess I could use a shave, huh?" Then I started to fret. "Look, uh, can I do something, you know, get you something? Are you comfortable? Do you need something for the pain? You know, whatever you need..."  
  
A wan smile touched his lips. "Well, there is this gorgeous blonde nurse--"  
  
"Rick!"  
  
He let out a weak chuckle, and I started to laugh. And then we both started laughing harder.   
  
"A.J...," Rick started coughing, "please...no more. It...hurts."  
  
"I'm...s-sorry, R-Rick." I sputtered, my shoulders shaking as I dissolved into a helpless fit of laughter, brought on not by amusement, but by sheer physical and emotional exhaustion. I couldn't seem to stop, and I laughed so hard it brought tears to my eyes. And it took me a moment to realize I wasn't laughing anymore, but crying. Drained, I leaned down and rested my head on my brother's shoulder.  
  
"Oh, God, Rick. I was so afraid...I thought I was gonna lose you. I, uh, need you, you know. I love you, Rick."  
  
I felt a hand tousling my hair. "Don't...worry, Kid," Rick said in a thick, sleepy voice. "You can't get... rid of me...that fast. I love...you...too, little brother."  
  
Slowly, I straightened up. Drawing in a ragged breath, I wiped my eyes and pushed the hair off my face.   
  
Rick was fast asleep.  
  
With a last look, I turned and quietly left the room.  
At last, I could rest.  
  
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Epilogue  
  
Several days later, Rick was released from the hospital, his right arm in a sling. He looked thin and weak, and I told him in no uncertain terms that he'd be staying with me until he was completely recovered. And for once, my usually ornery big brother seemed to have neither the strength nor the desire to object.  
  
One night we were sitting in the living room watching some bizarre sci-fi flick about a tapeworm that was eating its way through a small town. Although Rick pretended to be deeply engrossed in what was happening on the screen, he wasn't fooling me. It was all a facade, and I knew it. Ever since he'd come home, he'd been oddly quiet and distant, and almost too cooperative. This wasn't the big brother I knew and loved so well. I was waiting for him to start complaining and arguing and just be his old self again. But it was clear he wasn't.  
  
Something was troubling Rick, something he was trying with all his might to keep from me.  
He thought I wasn't aware of how he tossed and turned and cried out in his sleep, or of the nights he didn't sleep at all, but just sat up with the t.v. on.  
  
Suddenly, I remembered something he'd said, or maybe had let slip, right after he'd gotten so panicked in Sanchez's estate that day, something about him having had "dreams." At the time, I was so preoccupied with keeping us alive, it hadn't even registered.   
  
But it did now. And suddenly I was so angry I felt like kicking myself. Damn it! How could I have been so insensitive with my own brother? I'd seen how distressed he was, and I hadn't even thought to find out why. And I had the feeling he was still very much disturbed.  
  
I sat brooding through the "spine-chilling" and totally outlandish last fifteen minutes of the movie, heaving a sigh of relief when it was finally over.  
  
Rick turned to me. "Some movie, huh, A.J.?," he remarked as the credits rolled on the screen.  
"They just don't make 'em like that anymore."  
  
"No, they certainly don't--thank God," I said dryly.   
  
"So, uh, what do you want to watch now?" My brother seemed anxious, as if he dreaded going to sleep.   
  
Rising from the couch, I strode over to the t.v. set and switched it off.   
  
"Well, I guess that answers my question." Rick mumbled.  
  
I went over to the opposite couch, where Rick was sitting.  
  
"Mind if I sit down?"   
  
"Suit yourself." Rick shrugged, and moved over to make room for me. "Somethin' wrong, A.J.?" He looked at me, concerned.  
  
"Yeah." I sighed, and sat down beside him. "There is." I hesitated, staring down at my hands. Then I looked over at him.   
  
"Rick...why didn't you tell me, you know, about the dreams?"  
  
"What?" My brother's face took on a shuttered look, and he glanced away. Clearly, I'd hit a nerve.  
  
"Forget it, A.J.," he muttered. "It's nothin' to worry about."  
  
"I think it is." I nudged him gently. "Come on, you were having problems sleeping even before this whole thing started, weren't you?" I frowned. "Damnit, Rick, I'm your brother. Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
Rick rubbed a hand over his face and let out a heavy sigh. "A.J., I didn't wanna tell you because I knew you'd get all worried and start fussin' over me, just like you're doin' now."  
  
"These dreams...they had something to do with us...and that place, didn't they?" I persisted.  
"That's why you were so scared that day."  
  
Rick put his head down.  
  
"Rick." I put a hand on his shoulder. "I think it'll help if you talk about it."  
  
"I was there, A.J." Slowly, he looked up and turned to me. "In my dreams, I mean." He swallowed. "I, uh, could see myself backed up against those stone walls, sweat pourin' down my face. I was terrified, because I knew what was gonna happen next..."  
  
His voice trailed off, and he lowered his face into his hand.  
  
I squeezed his shoulder, and spoke softly. "Rick, please...tell me...what was going to happen next?"  
  
My brother slowly raised his head and turned to me, a haunted look in his eyes. "Oh, God,A.J." He took in a shaky breath. "It was the same every time. I could see you comin' down the stairs, and I...I shoot you." His eyes filled with tears, and he started to shake. "Oh, God, I kill my own brother, and there's nothin' I can do...to c-change...it. I'd keep seeing it over and over, until I'd finally wake up screaming, my heart poundin' like it was gonna explode."  
  
"Rick." I sighed, and put an arm around his shoulder, careful to avoid his injured right side. "I'm sorry. You tried to tell me that day...but it just--it didn't penetrate, you know." I frowned, feeling so damn guilty and angry with myself. How could I have done that to him?   
  
"God, no wonder you were so anxious about being there."  
  
"It was all playin' out just like in my dream, A.J." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Only...it wasn't a dream anymore...it was real. I was so terrified I was gonna...m-make a mistake, and s-shoot you."  
  
"So you let him shoot you instead."   
  
"I couldn't shoot him, A.J." Rick shook his head tearfully. "I just...couldn't. I thought he was...you--"  
  
His voice fading away, my big brother started to cry.  
  
"Oh, Rick." Gently, I laid his head against my shoulder and held him as he sobbed out all the guilt and fear that had been tormenting him for days.  
  
"It's okay," I said softly, patting his back. "It's all over. We're safe, and we still have each other. You have to let go of it now, Rick...please, just let it go."  
  
"I know." He nodded. "It's just that--I made a promise to you...a long time ago...A.J, that I would always protect you--"  
  
"Cross your heart and hope to die," I finished, tears blurring my eyes.  
  
"Yeah," he sniffed, "somethin' like that. And if I had...hurt you...that day, A.J., I know I would've just turned that gun on myself.  
  
"No, Rick...God, please don't say that." I hugged him tight. "You're my brother, and I love you."  
  
"I love you, too, kid," Rick whispered, his voice gruff. "I really do."  
  
"You promise?"   
  
"Yeah, Kid, I promise."  
  
  
End.  
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